


sanguis

by sithsecrets



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: <-- kind of (??), Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, F/M, Minor Character Death, Reader-Insert, References to Illness, Stalking, Vaginal Sex, Vampires, depictions of a not great sexual experience between reader and a side character, musings about vampirism and immortality, musings on humanity and the human experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28024494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithsecrets/pseuds/sithsecrets
Summary: “Does it hurt?” you ask softly, and he knows just what you’re speaking of.Kylo levels a look at you, even and serious. “You really don’t have to do this, you know. I can go out tomorrow night and hunt, maybe even slip out into the trees before the sunrises tomorrow morning.”Something in your eyes shifts then, and you’re unable to meet his eyes for the briefest of moments. “I want to help you, Lord Ren. Please, let me.”Your little voice is so soft, so sweet and earnest. Kylo cannot resist you then, the stone around his heart crumbling as if it were never hard in the first place.“It will hurt,” he declares, not having the heart to lie even as your lip twitches in discontent. “But the pain will ebb, and then you’ll feel something much better.”---After his hunt goes awry, vampire Lord Ren carries himself home under the light of the full moon. Things take a drastic turn when the object of his affection, one of his maids, comes knocking to lend a helping hand.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	sanguis

Having lived more life than any one person ever should, Kylo has come to know mortals like he knows the backs of his hand, like he knows the darkness behind his eyelids. He knows their basest desires, the things that make them tick. Everyone’s always musing about progress and changing morality, waxing poetic about the times of old and the future to come. It’s all a crock of shit, really, when you have the perspective of centuries on your side. Sex, food, money— people have been needing and wanting the same things for hundreds of years now, and no amount of religion or education or moral exercise will ever change that. Nothing shocks him anymore, the novelty of watching mortals make fools of themselves long gone after all this time. But alas, humans continue to do what they do, they continue to scheme and connive and make the same mistakes for the umpteenth time, and usually all in the name of something frivolous.

Like glory. Humans love to be glorified.

They talk about him in the village, this Kylo knows for a fact. He hears the servants’ gossip, he can feel the eyes on him when he makes one of his rare excursions into town. Some say that Kylo convenes with the Devil, others think he _is_ the Devil— many wild theories are always bouncing between the shopkeepers and the farmers, the details of these elaborate conspiracies changing as easily as the weather. Not one person’s come even remotely close to hitting the nail on the head, and Kylo’s not sure they ever will. But still, people are talking all the time. People are _wanting_ all the time…

Kylo would die to know what sorcery the moon possesses, would kill and maim freely if it meant he could understand why its rising makes humans so absolutely s _tupid_. It’s another feature of mortal behavior that Kylo’s come to loathe, especially over the last one hundred and fifty years or so— mortals take one fucking look at the full moon (and have about ten fucking drinks to go with the glance), and they begin to fancy themselves as “monster hunters.” Vials of holy water, strings of garlic, weapons forged in silver— these are what give the amateurs away. Not to mention they always attack like children playing a game of war. So much shouting and carrying on, brave speeches and declarations of their intentions to murder Kylo and take the _glory_ all for themselves… Real professionals could not be caught dead behaving in such a fashion. Kylo’s always called them “cleansers,” these _real_ killers of monsters. They do not announce themselves, do not rely on drivel or gimmicks to see them through. No, they step from the shadows much like Kylo himself, swift and silent and determined to end his life by any means necessary. Village idiots are plentiful in number and woefully unprepared for the task at hand, but cleansers… Kylo has tangled with only a handful over the course of his very long life, and each time, his victory has been narrow and hard won. And cleansers certainly do _not_ give a shit about becoming heroes, that’s for damn sure…

By the grace of God, however, no such person has come for Kylo tonight.

In hindsight, Kylo should have just gone to town and taken some petty criminal as his meal for the evening. Sure, the blood of thieves and rapists always tastes like utter shit, but they’re plentiful and easy to subdue near the taverns at this hour. But going to town means riding into town, and riding into town means having to make up an excuse to leave the house… Laziness pushed him to the forest, it is what made Kylo think that deer’s blood would be a fine enough meal for the evening. He’s done it a thousand times before, drank from animals out of necessity and convenience. Why not take the path of least resistance one more time?

 _Sloth is a cardinal sin for a reason._ This is Kylo’s only thought as he watches a man dart out from the trees, his form barreling forward as fast as his mortal legs will carry him. Kylo picked up on his presence nearly fifteen minutes ago, though he must admit that he’s impressed with this layman’s prowess. His footfalls were quiet on the forest floor, and even now, he exhibits some grace as he holds his weapon aloft. The villager is fast, Kylo will give him that, but he’s still got absolutely no chance of winning this fight.

The amateurs never expect him to be strong, not even under the full moon or in some other special circumstance, this much Kylo has come to learn. They would be wrong in thinking that he is weaker at certain times, for the gifts of vampirism are constant and ever-present, but still. This man is no different in his beliefs, surprise glinting in his eyes as Kylo lifts him up and into the air with a single hand. Despite this, the villager is defiant to his last breath, swinging blindly until his blade finds purchase in Kylo’s arm. The sharp bite of the dagger is enough to make Kylo forget himself, the crunch of bone loud in the quiet, still thicket of trees. Clutching his wound, Kylo curses and berates himself once he sees what he’s done. His adversary lays at his feet with a caved in skull, the man’s neck twisted to an unnatural degree. He’s useless now, his blood tainted by the ending of his life. It’s a mistake a vampire only makes once, drinking dead blood, but Kylo still mulls the idea over in his mind for the briefest of moments. He’s starving now, the exertion of murdering this poor idiot only serving to exacerbate the ache in his gut. Any further attempt at hunting will be a fool’s errand, however, every animal within fifteen miles no doubt petrified by the sounds of the scuffle.

Kylo takes one last look at the corpse before him, huff through his nose, and then starts for home.

\---

It’s late when Kylo returns to his rooms, most of the servants and groundskeepers done with their daily duties. He’s grateful to slip inside unnoticed, for he doesn’t feel like explaining his ruffled clothes or the gash in his arm. Much like the people in town, Kylo’s own staff like to gossip at length about what may be wrong with him. The cooks are mystified by how little he eats and the groundskeepers are convinced he’s not of this world, but the maids are the most frightened of him by far, always scurrying off in the other direction whenever he comes their way. But despite all of this, despite the rumors and the whispers, members of staff rarely quit. Working in this house comes with many perks— unusually high wages, quality living arrangements, access to expensive foods— and this is by design. People, when compensated handsomely, are likely to overlook or disregard things that concern them.

There’s a fire roaring in the bedroom when Kylo returns, though he feels none of its warmth. He settles by the hearth and then sends for bandages, sure some poor soul is downstairs cussing about being roused into service at this hour. Soon enough, there’s knocking at the door, the sound accompanied by voice he knows all too well.

“Lord Ren, I’ve brought what you requested.”

Kylo must admit, he hadn’t been expecting _you._ No, surely the head of house would have sent someone else, someone of a higher rank amongst the staff. Usually he gets a footman when he asks for things like this after dark, some pompous man in a stiff little outfit that behaves like Kylo’s a king or something equally ridiculous as he hands over whatever Kylo called for. You’re just a maid-of-all work, Kylo’s seen you scrubbing the floors and boiling the laundry. He hasn’t been watching you or anything, no— no, he certainly didn’t hide in the shadows last week while you were folding sheets outside, nor did he follow you from off the road as you made your way into town one evening…

So fine, maybe you _do_ hold his interest from time to time, more so than any mortal has in decades. Even still, it’s idiotic to soften his heart for a human, this much Kylo knows from experience. Affection is not to be trifled with, for it can grow and spiral into something dangerous. Adoration, even love— these are feelings Kylo simply cannot afford to experience. Some vampires are able to find “mates,” to cultivate relationships with mortals who wish to be like them, who with to _spend eternity together_. Kylo came close to that once, tasted that kind of love on his tongue, and it was sweet. So, so very sweet until the object of his affection recoiled away from the creature within him. It took years for the pain to ebb, took decades for Kylo’s heart to harden and freeze over— he will not go through that process again.

Kylo takes a moment to school his face before he goes to the door, intent on appearing aloof as he sends you away. He does a fine job keeping up the façade as he lays eyes on you, though you seem intent on making this more difficult for him than it needs to be.

“Here are your—” You falter as your eyes rake over the bloody slash in Kylo’s sleeve, now completely transfixed by the patch of crimson. “What happened to you?” you ask quickly, one hand reaching out, one hand grasping for his arm—

“I’m fine,” Kylo cuts, unsure of whether or not he could survive the feeling of your touch. He’s not repulsed by you in the slightest, not at all, but he can’t risk losing control of himself. The shock of seeing him injured has quickened your pulse considerably, the rush of your blood almost painfully loud in Kylo’s ears.

Undeterred and bewildered by the sight of him in such a state, you press on. “I don’t think you are,” you declare, and this time your fingertips really do brush over his wound. “Let me help you wrap this, please, you won’t be able to do it yourself.”

Kylo wants to snarl and cuss, wants to slam the door in your face right then and there. You’re the only one who does this, the only one who treats him like a person instead of a thing to be feared. Smiling at him in the corridor, bidding him a good evening, making a fuss over his injuries… Kylo cannot bear the thought of denying you now, though he knows that doing so would be the most prudent course of action.

It is with great pain that he attempts to remain aloof and disinterested, feigning annoyance as he steps aside to let you enter. “Fine, but don’t dawdle. I wish to rest.”

Kylo settles in a chair beside the hearth as you fiddle with the bandages, pulling at the neckline of his shirt so that he may take it off. You’ll never be able to access the wound any other way, though he hopes you don’t find the action presumptuous.

You grow shy the moment you turn to him, though you do a decent job of hiding how startled you truly are by the sight of Kylo’s bare torso. The truth is plain to him, however, for he can hear how your little heartbeat quickens behind your ribs. As you come closer and bend to your work, Kylo wonders idly if you’ve ever seen a man completely naked before. He knows for certain that you’ve—

Flush with shame, Kylo tamps down that thought. No, he won’t mull over those memories now, not with you here beside him.

You say very little as you work, patching Kylo’s wound with deft, gentle hands. He cannot help but watch you closely as you wind the bandages around his arm, taking in the slope of your nose, admiring the way your bodice fits across your chest. You feel his eyes on you, that much is made plain by the way you sneak glances at him, but you say nothing about it. Two quick twists of your hands, and then his dressing is tied off neatly, the paleness of the fabric making his coloring appear almost _healthy_ for the first time in many, many years.

“There,” you say softly, taking a step back from Kylo’s side. He thanks you quickly, though he truly is grateful for your help. The two of you look at one another for a long moment after that, Kylo enjoying your proximity guardedly, you chewing on the inside of your cheek as if you wish to speak.

Pulling on his shirt, Kylo once again tries to maintain a façade of casual disinterest. “If there is something you want to say, speak plainly before I send you away.”

You’re fiddling with your apron now, fingers twisting nervously in the fabric. “Did you… _eat_ while you were out, Lord Ren?”

Kylo cannot fathom why his tongue decides to produce the truth, but it does, largely of its own accord. “No,” he says, moving to cover himself quickly once he realizes what he’s done, “but I’ll send for something from the kitchens. You may go now.”

You look at him, swallow hard… “That’s not what I meant, Lord Ren. I— I know you don’t eat food like I and the other staff do. You never have.”

If Kylo’s heart were able to do such a thing, it would have ceased beating at this very moment. Somehow, some way, you’ve figured him out. He can tell by the set of your mouth, can tell by the very look in your eyes that this is no desperate attempt to drum up some gossip in the servants’ quarters.

Even still, Kylo proceeds to lie through his teeth.

“I understand that the people I employ like to speculate about what I do behind closed doors, but that does not excuse this—”

“Lord Ren,” you cut, stepping closer to him now. “I am not of a high station, and I certainly am not educated, but I can still see plainly. You never eat, you don’t sleep, and you’re so pale and yet still so strong… I went walking once on the property, just to clear my head one evening, and I found a deer on the forest floor. I thought perhaps that it had fallen dead due to illness, but then I noticed the puncture wounds on its neck. When I cut into its skin, there wasn’t even a drop of blood to be found.”

Kylo tenses then, grips the armrests of his chair as if they’re all that anchors him to this world. He was certain that he’d chosen his hunting grounds well enough to avoid this sort of thing, felt confident that no one would ever venture that far into the woods. You of all people had to be the bravest of the bunch, though— you had to be the one person with enough nerve to truly go exploring. Kylo decides then that you’re different than he thought, more fearless. You came here willingly, knowing full well that Kylo is something _unnatural_. You entered his rooms and tended to his wounds without so much as flinching, even _insisting_ that you help him, and now you stand here speaking freely before the monster you know.

Yes, you are _different_ indeed.

“Every so often, some imbecile from the village decides that he’s skilled enough to snuff me out.” Kylo jerks his head toward the window, the moon shining high and bright just beyond the pane. “I don’t know what gets into mortals when the full moon rises, but it’s nothing good, I can assure you of that. For the sake of brevity, I’ll say that I was attacked by a man with a knife. He stabbed me just before I killed him, and the ordeal ruined my hunt.”

You look a bit overwhelmed by Kylo’s words, but you nod companionably nonetheless. “And you hunt deer in the woods. Like the one that I found.”

Kylo nods. “Yes.”

“But you got to drink human blood this evening instead—”

“No,” Kylo cuts, shaking his head quickly. “I would become gravely ill if I were to drink dead blood.”

It’s obvious that you’re having some trouble understanding this notion of this, though Kylo doesn’t fault you for being confused. You edge closer still to his chair, practically glowing before the warmth of the hearth.

“So you haven’t eaten tonight,” you state, speaking the words with an air of finality. Kylo shakes his head wordlessly, transfixed by the way your throat bobs when you swallow. You hesitate to speak again, though the words do eventually pass your lips. “Your wound… If you were to drink a bit— a bit of _blood_ , would you heal faster?”

This question hangs in the air unanswered for one long, silent moment. Kylo agonizes over your meaning, sure that you could not possibly be offering yourself to him now. Even still, he dares to reply honestly.

“Yes, having some blood would help me heal with haste.”

The pounding of your pulse is almost deafening now, though your face remains relatively set and calm. Kylo marvels at your ability to appear unaffected even as a great deal of anxiety courses through your body, itching to reach out and touch you now as you come even closer to his chair.

“Does it hurt?” you ask softly, and he knows just what you’re speaking of.

Kylo levels a look at you, even and serious. “You really don’t have to do this, you know. I can go out tomorrow night and hunt, maybe even slip out into the trees before the sunrises tomorrow morning.”

Something in your eyes shifts then, and you’re unable to meet his eyes for the briefest of moments. “I want to help you, Lord Ren. Please, let me.”

Your little voice is so soft, so sweet and earnest. Kylo cannot resist you then, the stone around his heart crumbling as if it were never hard in the first place.

“It will hurt,” he declares, not having the heart to lie even as your lip twitches in discontent. “But the pain will ebb, and then you’ll feel something much better.”

Bravery shines in your eyes as you nod, masking the fear Kylo knows you feel. It’s as if you’re waiting for directions in the seconds that follow, stock still and silent in the center of the rug. Kylo cuts his eyes to the neckline of your jacket, lets his gaze skim over the covering tucked in there, and you abruptly come to understand what must be done.

“Oh,” you gasp, quiet as a mouse and half as bold, “of course…”

You make quick work of properly exposing your throat, pulling off your kerchief and picking at the pins in your bodice before untying your cap. Careful work is made of setting your garments down on the chair across from Kylo’s, and then you’re taking a few measured steps towards him, absolutely stunning in your skirts and stays. He can tell you feel vulnerable like this, though not one bit of you is truly exposed. Kylo decides then that no, you’ve never seen a man naked, for one hasn’t ever seen _you_ in such a state.

“Should I… How would you like me?”

Kylo’s cock stirs at the mere sound of such a phrase falling from your lips, though he’s not proud of the way his body responds to your breathy little words. He takes a moment to admire you, and then one more to consider the logistics of how this should be done. One glance towards the bed has you blushing and growing shy, causing Kylo to strike the idea on principle. There is a lounge in another part of the room, one large enough to accommodate the both of you, and he tilts his head in its direction.

The both of you walk to the little couch wordlessly, Kylo settling on its oft cushions first before helping you get comfortable. You crawl in his lap easily enough when prompted, arranging your skirts so that you may straddle the width of his thighs. At this distance, your scent is practically intoxicating, flooding Kylo’s senses and making him dizzy. His fangs are prominent now, the points threatening to poke out and lie against his bottom lip. If you’re able to feel how he’s half hard in his pants, you say nothing about it, trembling and fidgeting as Kylo reaches to take hold of you.

“It’ll only hurt for a moment?” you blurt, jerking back from his touch. And though the gesture is an intimate one, Kylo soothes his hand down the plane of your back, coaxing you close to him again.

“Just for a moment, yes,” he affirms, speaking softly, trying to be of some comfort.

Finally, you offer Kylo your neck, the column of your throat even more arousing to him than your question from earlier. He leans in slowly, lips seeking out the push of your pulse. It’s virtually a kiss, the way he presses his mouth against you, and no one is more surprised than Kylo when you mewl softly at the touch.

Just as he finds the right place to sink his teeth into, Kylo clamps down on your body, anchoring you in place. He gives you no warning before he latches on, his fangs puncturing your skin one quick, fluid motion. Above him, you cry out, whimpering in pain as he sucks the first bit of blood from your body. Your attempts to escape are feeble, the squirming and thrashing useless in the wake of Kylo’s strength.

“Lord Ren, I don’t— It hurts, please—”

Your protests are almost enough to make Kylo stop, almost enough to make him wrench his mouth free so that he may apologize, but these actions prove to be unnecessary mere seconds after they are considered. All at once, you sag against Kylo, your body limp and pliant in his arms. Where there was once fear and anxiety there is now only euphoria, for your cries of pain have melted into moans of ecstasy. Your hips begin to roll lazily and without purpose, your hands fisting into the front of his shirt as if that is all that anchors you to this world now.

“Do you want me to stop?” Kylo asks, only because he must be absolutely sure you want this. The way you grip his hair and force his face back into the crook of your neck is all the answer he needs, and then he’s drinking from you once more.

Kylo decides at once that it’s been too long since he had human blood of this quality, the taste of you so sweet and pure on his tongue. He’s more accustomed to that of drunks and criminals, much more used to blood that tastes like shit and goes down like sludge. It’s been centuries since he’s eaten or drunk anything of substance, but Kylo knows for certain that drinking your blood is like drinking a fine glass of expensive, carefully crafted wine. The flavor, the texture, the way your lifeforce slides down his throat— utter perfection, every bit of it. And to be able to smell how your cunt weeps for him as he drinks, well…

But Kylo can only enjoy so much of you, for he would sooner die himself than watch the life drain from your eyes. No, he must make sure that you live on, so he unlatches from your neck and laps at the two little puncture wounds left there, only satisfied when not even a drop of blood trickles forth from them. His cock positively aches for you now, the need he feels only exacerbated by the way you squirm and grind against him.

You’re on another planet when Kylo finally meets your gaze again, eyes lusty and hooded with pleasure.

“You’re done?” you ask pitifully, so discontent with the state of things that a pretty little whimper escapes you throat. Kylo simply nods, cupping your cheek to soothe the wound.

“Yes, petal, I’m done,” he affirms, shaking his head soundly when you begin to whine. “If I drink any more of your blood, you will become ill.”

But you are determined to test his resolve, deadest on breaking Kylo’s will. You crowd close to him, pulling up your skirts, rolling your hips and griding your cunt against the clothed line of his cock. “Do something else to me then,” you husk, licking and kissing at the side of his throat without a second’s hesitation. Every press of your lips goes straight to his groin, and for one fleeting moment, he really does consider fucking you right here like you want. Thankfully, the rational side of his mind claims victory, forcing him to push you back with a gentle but insistent grip.

“My love,” he says evenly, “you must rest now. You’re more tired than you realize.”

“I don’t want to rest,” you counter, your nose brushing Kylo’s as you speak. It takes every bit of everything he has not to kiss you, not to pick you up and toss you down on his bed, your state of mind be damned. But Kylo knows that this isn’t you speaking, not really, so he offers you a deal instead.

“When your mind is clear, if this is something you still desire, then I will give it to you with haste. Until then, little flower, you _must rest_.”

Affected by this offer, you sit up and look at Kylo with glazed, lusty eyes. “If I go to sleep, you’ll fuck me?”

You sound so desperate, so _needy_ … Hearing you say something so forward and filthy makes Kylo’s cock twitch of its own accord, and he finds himself once again exercising all the self-control he has to his name.

“I will make love to you, yes, but only after you’re behaving like yourself again.”

Finally, you relent, hips stilling, hands relaxing. Kylo takes this opportunity to hook his arms under your thighs, picking you up easily as he rises from the couch. He lays you out ever so gently on his bed, cradling your head so that it will not hit the pillows with undue force. And though you try to fight it, your eyes begin to droop as soon as you’re settled.

“Sleep now, little petal.”

It is Kylo’s last command, for you are snoozing soundly not one second later. He studies you, unable to help himself as he takes in the sumptuous swell of your breasts, the gentle curve of your cheek. And though Kylo would not deign to do anything improper to you when you’re in such a state as this, he does press one soft, light kiss to your forehead. The very idea of you being uncomfortable as you rest is unacceptable to him, not after you’ve been so sweet and so generous, so he pulls off your shoes and unties your apron, casting them aside with your other clothes. Your stays close in the front, making it easy for Kylo to tug them loose, and his fingers work with the lacing until he’s sure your chest is no longer restricted. You curl up like a kitten as soon as Kylo covers you with the blankets, dead to the world even as he stokes the fire and throws fresh logs into the hearth.

With you safe, warm, and tucked in snuggly, there is nothing left for Kylo to do except settle in and wait for you to wake again. He reclaims his seat by the fire, positioning himself so that he may watch you as you rest.

Mortal life is rife with weaknesses and inconveniences— illness, for instance— but Kylo must admit that he still envies the human ability to sleep. Vampires are able to close their eyes and slip into a kind of meditative state for a few hours at a time, sure, but that cannot even hold a candle to deep, peaceful slumber. Oh yes, Kylo is wracked with jealousy as he watches you snuffle into the covers, as he watches as your chest rises up and down, up and down. You are expressionless and calm, still and content— he wants nothing more than to climb under the covers beside you and fall into a similar state of peace.

Some time goes by, and Kylo’s mind strays from musings on the benefits of mortality. One glance at your jacket and cap on the chair opposite his has him remembering the thoughts he pushed away earlier, reminds him of what he was so keen to forget. In no way is proud of what he did that night— quite the opposite, really— but it’s not like he meant to violate you in such a fashion.

Several weeks ago, as Kylo’s… _interest_ in you was growing stronger and stronger by the day, he took to following you about. By no means was he stalking you, but… he just liked the idea of being near to you, of knowing where you were and what you were doing. Mostly, he just wanted to know you were safe and happy, that you weren’t being treated poorly or teased by other members of staff. You’re very fond of walking— you take a turn about the grounds almost every evening— and Kylo naturally took to trailing along beside you most nights.

He thought nothing out of the ordinary would occur this particular evening, not at all. You came into the back gardens from a servants’ door as you always did, dressed for a walk with a lantern in hand. The both of you walked your usual route at first, cutting across the side of the property near the road, but then you took a left and kept going straight down the lane towards town. Kylo naturally followed, sticking to the trees and being sure to keep his steps swift and silent. He had promised himself from the start that he would only interfere and make himself known if you encountered any real danger, be it on his property or in town, though every part of him screamed to reach out and ask where you were going this late. The sun slipped lower and lower as you trekked into the village, and Kylo’s anxiety only spiked with each step you took. It’s not always a safe place after dark, this much Kylo knows for certain, and he feared that you’d encounter someone who meant to do you harm.

Thankfully, such a thing never occurred, and you continued to walk alone safely until you came to almost the other side of the town. You stopped by some sort of outbuilding, a forgotten or seldom-used barn of some sort. Kylo could hear no animals inside, nor were there any people milling about within its walls. It was several minutes before he so much as picked up on a footstep, and then several more after that until you realized someone was coming. This did not seem to alarm you, so Kylo remained concealed, watching intently as a young man came into view from the same path you’d travelled. He recognized the figure immediately, the blacksmith’s son a familiar, prominent face in town. It took him a moment to remember the boy’s name, but finally, it came to him— Matthew.

Your face broke into shy, adoring grin as soon as you laid eyes on him, and Kylo felt as though he might die. _Of course_ , he thought to himself, for why would someone as sweet and as pretty as you _not_ have a beloved? Kylo could picture it easily, you marrying and then caring for this man as he toiled away over his anvil. He would take good care of you, perhaps treat you to small luxuries here and there. You would stop working at the house to bear Matthew’s children, and Kylo would watch from afar as another man—

All at once, these horrible visions were cleared from Kylo’s mind as he began paying attention once more to the scene playing out before him. Matthew did not greet you like a lover, did not offer you a tender kiss or a trinket of his affection. His eyes were dark from the minute he arrived, his gaze raking over your body perversely. Scarcely a word was said before between the both of you before the blacksmith’s son pushed you, guiding you until your back hit the wall of the old, dilapidated barn.

The life of a vampire is rife with gifts that are blessings and curses in equal measure, but Kylo was thankful for his heightened senses in this moment. He could hear and see all that was being said and done, even in the darkness and even at a distance, and that is why he knew you were apprehensive from the start.

“Here?”

You looked at Matthew with great ambivalence, but he did his best to soothe you— or, rather, to make you stop talking. “You’ll enjoy it, love. Trust me.”

And you must have thought that you could in fact give Matthew your trust, for you simply nodded and let him press a few sloppy, half-hearted kisses to your neck. As the boy tugged open his pants and pressed you against the wooden wall, Kylo thought it might be time for him to turn away, for him to go home or at least give you some privacy until you were ready to make the journey back. But something concerned and possessive in the pit of his stomach told him to stay, and so he did, watching with great anger (and a bit of envy) as Matthew picked you up and pinned you against the barn, reaching under your gathered skirts with little finesse. Shock was evident on your face as he pushed inside you, your brow pinching together to form an expression of pain and surprise that made Kylo want to murder the boy right then and there. Matthew did not take his time with you, did not whisper a sweet word or even so much as kiss you as he fucked you. The whole dreadful thing was over in about ten minutes, though the little twit did have the good sense to pull out before he came. You knelt before him then, face twisting into a grimace the minute Matthew’s seed hit your tongue. It may have aroused Kylo, watching you have sex and use your mouth to please another man, if you didn’t look so disappointed when all was said and done. He could not profess to know what sort of drivel Matthew lured you here with, but promises of a mediocre, inconsiderate, selfish fucking were certainly not in the script.

To top of his night of asinine, piggish behavior, Matthew declined to give you a kiss before the both of you parted ways. For God’s sake, he didn’t even so much as offer you a warm embrace, a reassuring touch… There was one singular, solitary thing keeping Kylo gutting the blacksmith’s boy on the lane that night, and it was the fact that you were facing a lonely, long journey home.

Once again, he stuck to the trees as he tailed you, following the soft light of your little lantern. When you were out of town again, Kylo watched from behind as your shoulders slumped and your back shuddered. He heard you sniffle and hiccup, heard you sob and whimper in the darkness. Kylo almost did it then, almost stepped out of the shadows to sweep you up in his arms. Every bit of him ached to soothe your broken heart, and no command or request could have been too ridiculous in that moment. Had you said you that wanted the moon pulled right out of the sky, Kylo would have worked himself to death to do it. But even so, he stayed concealed, fearful that you would be frightened if he made his presence known.

Thoughts of retribution bubbled and boiled in his mind for the better part of the next day, and vengeance certainly seemed sweet for all those hours. Kylo mulled over hundreds of ideas, many of which included leaving Matthew’s lifeless body hanged in the town square for all to see. Milder plots involved simply maiming the boy. Breaking both of his hands, gouging out an eye, castrating him completely— all of these actions were under serious consideration for quite some time. Finally, though, he let these desires go, coaxed into passivity by the thought of you being distressed. Kylo knew for a fact that the blacksmith’s boy wasn’t worth a damn thing, but God forbid he murder the little prick and send you into fit of grief. No, Kylo couldn’t bear to see your heart sustain any more damage, so he so he chose not to behave drastically.

Mulling over that night has Kylo restless and agitated, residual rage bubbling up in his chest alongside white hot shame. Though he’s glad he was there to keep you safe, Kylo still feels incredible guilt over having intruded on what was meant to be a private moment. Not for the first time, Kylo wonders what you would think of him, should you ever come to know what he saw. The very idea has him anxious, and he decides that he must do something, anything, to take his mind off the whole ordeal.

Kylo chooses to steal down to the kitchens, preparing a plate of food for you quickly and quietly in the darkness. A sliced apple, a hunk of cheese, a bit of bread— he brings all of this back to his rooms along with a fresh pitcher of water, bent on having all you could want or need. You’re still asleep when he returns to his rooms, and you continue to slumber soundly for the better part of the next half-hour.

Finally, Kylo is treated to watching you come alive again, your body twisting in the covers as you stretch and work your muscles. You seem vaguely disoriented as you sit up, looking about the room for a moment until your eyes land on Kylo’s face. Shocked into silence, you simply watch as he comes to the bedside, your tray of food in hand.

“Drink,” Kylo commands gently, holding a cup of water to your lips. You do as he says, peering up at him through your lashes as you sip, and not for the first time does Kylo wonder if you know what power you hold over him.

You eat very quietly, chewing on a bit of bread, nibbling on an apple slice. Kylo matches your silence, content to observe until you tell him you’re finished. He sets the tray aside, and then it’s just the two of you there on the bed.

“How do you feel?” Kylo asks, regarding you with a critical eye. You grow shy under his gaze, voice soft and small.

“I feel fine,” you answer. “How is your arm?”

Kylo touches his bicep absently, rubbing at the previously injured skin. “Healed.”

“So my blood was enough then? It was good?”

And though Kylo is so afraid he’ll frighten you, he cannot help the darkening of his tone as he declares, “The best.”

That makes you draw in a short breath, has you cutting your eyes down and to the side. You wring your hands absently, teeth worrying your bottom lip.

“What troubles you, petal?” Kylo asks, trying to coax you into speaking your mind. He wishes he could peer inside your head somehow, wishes he could think all that you think and feel all that you feel.

“I… Last night, you said… You said that if I did as you asked, we could _continue_ when I woke up.”

In the name of rewarding you for this brave little speech, Kylo reaches out, brushing back a bit of your hair with a gentle handle. “Yes, little flower, I did say that. But only if that’s what you want. If you feel differently now or are simply too tired, I am content to—”

“I want it,” you blurt, pulse quickening, the sound of your heart thudding in Kylo ears like a war drum. “I— I mean… I want _you_.”

The sound of your words fills Kylo with feelings of ecstasy unlike anything he’s ever felt, and he is on you at once. He fits his hands around your waist, lets your noses brush against one another. You draw in quick, short little breaths, almost trembling in his arms.

“Do you want me to lie on my back or on my stomach?” you ask softly, already moving to pull your skirts up around your waist. Kylo decides in this moment that he may snap and rip out Matthew’s throat yet, for this boy has made you think that you are nothing more than a set of holes to be fucked.

“What I want you to do,” Kylo begins, pressing you back onto the pillows, “is relax, let go, and learn what it is to be worshipped.”

This affects you greatly, seemingly clearing every single word right out of your mouth. Kylo takes this as an opportunity to begin, leaning down to kiss you gently, adoringly. The very first press of his lips against yours has him reeling, for it would seem that there is not one part of you that does not taste sweet. You are hesitant and unsure of yourself, a nervous giggle escaping you when Kylo slides his tongue against yours. But then you relax again, mewling contentedly as Kylo deepens the kiss… In a word, the whole thing is _divine_.

Pressing kisses to your neck and chest earns Kylo several precious little gasps, it makes you squirm underneath him. You do not protest when he removes his shirt, nor do you say a word when Kylo begins pulling your stays apart, fingers working with the lacing until your shift is bare to him. The true contours of your body are made plain even through the thin fabric, and the mere shape of you is enough to make Kylo salivate.

“May I see all of you, little flower?” he asks gently, thinking it would be prudent to warn you before he begins removing your skirts and stockings.

Just as Kylo suspected, the prospect of nakedness makes you shy, your arms drawing in on your chest.

“Why do you give me all of these names?”

You’re dodging the question, the pounding of your heart a dead giveaway to the anxiety you’re feeling.

“Because you are precious and delicate and rare, and you must be addressed as such.” Kylo sweeps a bit of hair back from your face, draws one of your hands to his lips. “If you are worried about what I will think of your body, my love, I assure you that you have nothing to fear. I have pined for you for many nights, and nothing you reveal to me now could make me turn away.”

It takes some maneuvering, but both you and Kylo eventually manage whatever clothing remains on the both of you. Though Kylo feels as though he’s poised some combust any minute, he forces himself to take his time, forces himself to make this special for you. His favorite part by far is removing your stockings, for he gets to study the rest of your naked body as he goes about the task. You shiver so beautifully as he drags the fabric down your leg, slow and deliberate and so very intimate. He trails kisses along every new inch of exposed skin, pressing his lips to one thigh, one calf, and one ankle, repeating the act of worship on the other side of your body. The smell of your cunt is strong in his nose, it draws Kylo in, intoxicates him. If you were anyone else, if you were not so precious to him, he would simply bury his face between your legs and lap at the sweetness there without so much as a warning. But you are you, after all, and Kylo would sooner die than frighten you. Even now, pliant and aroused as you are, he can still sense the nervous energy thrumming through your body.

“Are you enjoying yourself, petal?” Kylo asks, showering your stomach with languid, wet kisses. The sight of your nipples stiff before him is too tempting to resist, so Kylo sucks one bud into his mouth, pleased with the way this makes you cry out.

“I— Yes, yes I’m very happy,” you pant, fingers tangling in Kylo’s hair. He could stay here in this bed forever, he thinks, content to have you pet his hair as he worships your body for the better part of the next thousand years. But you don’t have that long, and that is the only shame in all of this.

“Come, blossom, come sit with me.” Kylo moves you as he pleases, shuffling around on the covers so that he may sit against the headboard. You settle gingerly between his legs, back arching when your skin presses against the line of his cock. It takes a bit of coaxing, but you do finally relax after a moment, drawn in by the sweet things Kylo speaks into your ear. The first touch of his hand on your cunt nearly ruins this newfound state of calm, the moment salvaged only by Kylo’s reassurances.

“Pleasure is nothing to shy away from, my love,” Kylo says to you, coating the pads of his fingers in your slick so that he may rub tight little circles on your clit. This earns Kylo a moan, and he begins to pinch and pull at your nipples, switching between breasts as he pleases.

Panting prettily, it appears to Kylo as though it takes everything you have within you to form a coherent sentence. “This is— What— What is the purpose of this?” you ask, stammering over every syllable.

Kylo returns your question with one of his own, his brow creasing in confusion. “You do not like it, blossom?” His hand stills between your thighs, and you let out the most pathetic little noise.

“No, no, I like it very much,” you whimper, grinding against his fingers, urging him to continue. “It just does nothing for you. I don’t understand—”

At once, Kylo begins playing with you again, circling your clit, letting his fingers dip into your cunt. Your capacity for speech seemingly disintegrates.

“Your pleasure is my pleasure,” he explains, and almost as if on cue, you cry out in a way that makes Kylo’s cock twitch. “I assure you that this is no chore for me.”

But this declaration of his feelings on the matter may be entirely useless, for you are cumming, your cunt clenching Kylo’s fingers like a vice as you whimper and moan and tremble in his arms. He holds you close, cradles you like the precious thing that you are. Kylo kisses you when you’re on the ground again, reveling in how you clutch onto him as though he is all that there is. You must rest for a few minutes, this much he knows, but Kylo’s more than happy to hold you until you have recovered.

There is a long silence, your breathing and the crackling of the fire the only sounds to be heard, and then you are turning your pretty face up to look at him.

“I’m ready,” you say softly, and Kylo knows precisely what you mean.

He nods. “Have you ever been with a man before?”

Kylo only asks the question for your benefit, knowing good and well that you will not be his first. But you don’t know that he’s seen you in a situation such as this before, though, and—

“You already know that I have, Lord Ren.”

This statement breaks Kylo from his thoughts completely, forcing his entire brain to stutter to a halt. He gapes at you, unsure of how to proceed even in the wake of your casual demeanor. You do not seem angry, nor are you afraid.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, snuggling against Kylo’s chest. “I knew you were there from the moment I left the grounds.”

And now it is Kylo’s turn to stammer like a fool, for how could you possibly have known? You laugh in the face of this behavior, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face.

“You were always in the vicinity, Lord Ren,” you explain, “that’s how I knew.”

Kylo is incredulous. “I— I did my best to conceal myself, and because of what I am, stealth is—”

Once again, you let out a laugh, and even in the face of all this embarrassment and shame, it is still one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard.

“Yes, you did, and you did very well,” you concede, pulling the covers up around yourself. “But what else was I to think when you were always coming in some time after me every evening? You’ve never been one to go out walking, and I didn’t see you on the grounds—”

Flustered, Kylo cuts you off with a kiss. “Alright, alright,” he says, “I understand. Perhaps I wasn’t as skillful as I thought.”

And now you’re the one kissing him, letting the press of your lips linger in a way that makes Kylo’s head buzz.

“You were not, but I’m fine with that,” you tell him, twisting around under the covers, moving to straddle the width of his thighs. Your lips are soft on Kylo’s neck, his collarbones… “I didn’t mind having you there. It made me feel safe.”

“If you knew I was there—” Kylo groans shortly when you sink your teeth into the flesh of his chest. “Why did you let me see you like that?”

“I wasn’t sure what you thought of me, but I knew you’d never let me harmed. All I had to do was scream, and you would have saved me.”

Affection for you blooms in Kylo’s chest, hot and all consuming. He takes hold of your properly rolling you onto your back, settling his body between your spread legs. You are so beautiful like this, kiss bitten and needy, chest heaving as you breathe. It is too much, the image of you laid out underneath him like this enough to prod him into action.

Having lived for hundreds of years, Kylo’s relationship with religion is complicated at best. But though he is sure he’ll never see Heaven’s gates, he knows now what it feels like to have your cunt clench around his cunt, and that is more than enough. You gasp so prettily as he pushes into you, one hand flying down to clutch your abdomen as Kylo bottoms out. He replaces your palm with one of his own, soothing your skin, asking you softly if it’s too much. You shake your precious head no, and then Kylo knows nothing but the tightness of your cunt.

Yes, this is certainly Heaven, for no other descriptor even begins to cover what it is like to make love to you. Kylo pushes into your body again and again, letting you clutch onto him, pushing your legs up against your chest so that he may fuck you even deeper than before. And of course you moan for him, you moan and mewl and cry out, and no sweeter sound has ever graced his ears. Kylo would be content to have you no less than fifty different ways on the various surfaces in his bedroom, but he can’t bear the thought of asking you to move at this very moment. You seem to enjoy being on your back very much, and how could he possible kiss your sweet mouth if you were to be, say, bent over his desk? No, that simply won’t do for tonight, so he stays as he is, fucking you with everything that he has in the name of illustrating just how much you deserve to be worshipped.

When Kylo reaches between the both of you to play with your clit, you arch into his hand at first contact, babbling about how you’re going cum again if he keeps on like this. Finally, you succumb to the heat coiling in your stomach, writhing and crying out beneath him. Kylo watches you come apart, still pushing his cock in and out, in and out of your body, and he knows he will not last much longer. Even still, he forces himself to hold on, hellbent on seeing you through this before he loses control.

It is not long before you go limp, wrung out from the exertion of cumming. Sweat glistens at your hairline, you lay before Kylo with half-lidded eyes and tousled hair… In this moment, you are more beautiful than any work of art than he is ever seen, more enriching than any novel or poem. Yes, your body is a wonder, but it is your words that draw Kylo to his orgasm.

“You cannot make me pregnant, can you?” you ask, breathing out the words between thrusts. It takes all his concentration, but Kylo manages to shake his head, thinking just briefly of all the women he’s taken to bed over the centuries. Some were his lovers for months at a time, years, even.

“No,” he grits, shooing all thoughts that do not revolve around you out of his mind. “I would know by now if I were able to do such a thing.”

“Cum inside me, then,” you say, forming the words even as Kylo’s hand come up to cradle your face. “ _Please_.”

And then you’re sucking his thumb into your mouth, an action that effectively incinerates Kylo’s ability for self-control. He moans your name as he fills you, thrusts becoming shallow and erratic. For the briefest of moments, your body is all that he knows, it is all that is real to him. But then the world slowly comes back into focus, the sound of the crackling fire and the panting of your breath drawing him to the ground.

Kylo is greeted by the sight of your face when he opens his eyes, your expression something between curious and awed. You receive a kiss with pleasure, smiling a small, shy smile when Kylo pulls away to look at you once more. He arranges your body carefully as he pulls out of you, telling you to keep your legs up.

“I’ll be back in just a moment,” he murmurs, lips brushing your forehead, and then he’s out of bed and looking for a rag, anything that he can clean you up with.

You are quiet as Kylo wipes his cum from between your thighs, seemingly content to study him as he works. The silence persists as he discards the cloth and stokes the fire, concerned that it has died too low and left you cold. He can hear you rearranging the covers and fixing the bed as he does this, the shuffle of the blankets a dead giveaway as to what you’re doing.

Only when the both of you are settled back in bed do you say anything, looking up at him with hopeful, bright eyes.

“I liked that very much, Lord Ren,” you say softly. “Thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for, petal,” Kylo replies, fussing with your hair, smoothing it back from your face. “It was no chore. And I don’t want you to call me by my title, not anymore. My given name will be more than enough from now on.”

“Alright then… _Kylo_.”

Your tongue is certainly not accustomed to the taste of his name, but Kylo loves the sound nonetheless. He smiles then and lets his eyes slip closed, tucking your head under his chin. Outside, the sun is just beginning to rise, the room filling with the pale gray light of morning. Something about the look of it makes Kylo remember your words from earlier.

“May I ask you a question?”

You sit up to look at him, nodding quietly.

“Why did you cut its skin?”

Your surprise is evident on your face, a deep crease forming between your brows. “What are you talking about?”

“The deer,” Kylo explains, realizing that he’d gotten ahead of himself. “When you came upon that deer I drained, you said that you cut into its skin and that that’s how you’d known I was a vampire. What possessed you to do that in the first place?”

And he really does want to know. You’ve never professed to be a hunter, and in any case, it would be quite an endeavor for you to haul a whole deer all the way back to the house by yourself. It was a deliberate, though, the cutting, and you must have had a good reason.

The very nature of Kylo’s questioning has put you on edge, and you shy away from him now, moving to cover yourself and turn away. It dawns on him then that perhaps you were doing something you shouldn’t have been doing, something you’ve been told is wrong or sinful. Christianity grips this area like a vice, Kylo knows this well, and the societal expectations it has formed for women over the last several hundred years are restrictive _at best_. Kylo has seen women of all stations face persecution and ostracism for the most benign and ridiculous thing, things that no one would bat an eye at should they be done by a man. He cannot imagine what it’s like, being afraid that everyone will come to hate you all because you so much as took a breath at the wrong time during a sermon.

“Little flower, I do not enforce any sort of laws, and I certainly am not an agent of the Church,” Kylo declares, coaxing you back to him, reaching out to draw you near again. “I simply want to know what you were doing. I won’t tell anyone a thing about it, no matter what you say.”

The look in your eyes is rather ambivalent, but you do eventually speak.

“I was… Do you remember when one of the kitchen girls died a few months ago? Elizabeth?”

Kylo nods, for how could he not? He understands that the girl’s death was not painless, and he came to her small funeral out of respect. The priest prattled on much about the workings of the Devil or some other such nonsense, and that made the Elizabeth’s mother even more distressed than she already was.

You clamor out of the bed, seemingly impassioned to explain yourself now. “Well, before she died, she complained of pain here.” You press your hand to the right side of your stomach. “And she felt hot to the touch. Her illness was very severe, and she writhed and begged the doctor to make her better. But then after some time, her pain went away, and all that lingered was the fever.”

Kylo props his head up on his arm, nodding to let you know that he’s listening. A troubled expression comes over your face as you come back to the bed, the look in your eyes far away.

“The pain never returned, but her fever only got worse. After a while, she was delirious, seeing things that weren’t there, talking to herself… The doctor and the priest said it was the work of the Devil, but I… I think it was her _fever_ that made her see those things. By the next day, she’d fallen into a sleep we couldn’t rouse her from, and then… then that was it.”

Kylo strokes your arm, a small gesture of comfort as the two of you sit under the weight of these solemn words. You are quiet for a moment, but then you come back to yourself, turning to face him.

“I cut into the deer because I wanted to see what was in its stomach. It had fallen in such a way that its right side was exposed, and I thought perhaps that I could cut into its body and look at its insides.” You pause, choosing your words carefully. “My thinking is that a piece of Elizabeth was sick, something in her stomach, for the rest of her seemed to be fine. I think that sick piece of her insides is what caused her fever and pain, and I think it is eventually what killed her. I know that a deer isn’t a person, but— but surely we must have some of the same things inside us? Deer breathe just as we do, and they also bleed when they are cut. They have babies, they die… Maybe that was silly of me to think, though.”

Kylo will not stand to see you doubt yourself, for you are so very correct.

“Humans have things inside of them just as animals do, and to me, the parts do appear to be very similar. I think you’re right about what happened to that girl, at least in some way. I wish I had more to offer you on the subject, but it has been many years since I concerned myself with illness the likes of which you speak.” This makes you pensive, and he draws you in close, kissing the top of your head. “I have some texts I think you might be interested in, studies of the human body. I came to possess them many years ago, but the creator of these works was very talented and extremely knowledgeable. Surely you can learn something from them now.”

The prospect of such a thing seems to excite you, though a strange look comes over your face not a second later.

“Do the texts have pictures? Drawings or something like that?” you ask, and your voice is rather small as you say this.

“Oh yes,” Kylo affirms, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. “The author of these works was a very talented artist, one of the very best. But you’ll want to read his comments as well, for he wrote much about what he thought. Maybe some of it will add to your ideas.”

“I’m sure his notations are very important, but I— I can’t read them, so it won’t matter.”

At once, Kylo is flooded with embarrassment. How stupid could he be, assuming that you would be educated in such a fashion? He forgets often that such a thing has fallen out of popularity, especially in this part of the continent. And not to mention that the education of women in general is discouraged and suppressed at every turn…

“I tried to teach myself,” you say suddenly, “but I couldn’t figure out how. There are so many words—”

“I’ll teach you,” Kylo blurts, rushing to soothe this wounds that he’s created within you. The shame on your face makes him feel sick, and he cannot bear to have you feel this way about something that was largely out of your control in the first place. “I learned a long time ago, but I think I could make you understand how it’s done. Or I’ll hire you a tutor.”

You laugh then, though there’s no humor in it. “I’m sure no one will want to waste their time trying to teach me something like that, and you shouldn’t either. I’ll just—”

“Nothing is a waste of my time when it is something involving you, that much I can say for certain,” Kylo cuts, taking your face firmly in his hands. You chew on the inside of your cheek, still not convinced. “And if I hire someone to teach you, then they will do as I ask and nothing less. You are very smart, for you could never have thought those things about Elizabeth if you weren’t. You just need someone to teach you about the world, that’s all.”

Though it is a small, almost imperceptible movement, you press your cheek into one of Kylo’s hands, eyes shining as you ask, “Will you be the one to teach me? I don’t want to learn from anyone else.”

“Petal,” Kylo says, speaking this pet name of yours into the light of morning as if it is the name of a sacred, powerful goddess, “it would be my honor to open your eyes.”


End file.
